


A Shadow and Her King

by Nyghtlei17



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anal Play, F/M, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyghtlei17/pseuds/Nyghtlei17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can’t be his mistress anymore.  He won’t let her go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shadow and Her King

**Author's Note:**

> Translations 
> 
> Ma Vhenan: My Heart  
> Emma Lath: My Love  
> Dareth Shiral: Farewell (Stay Safe)

It had been this way for over two years, why did she still get that feeling in her stomach?  She wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of seeing him or the fear.  She always feared this would be the last time, afraid he would tell her this couldn’t go on.  He was King and if anyone found out it would only end badly, for her, of course.  She was pretty sure the Queen knew.  That didn’t matter now though, she knew soon the bump under the Queen’s dress was going to start becoming more noticeable with the coming weeks.  Them meeting like this would become impossible.

She fidgeted in her cloak, was it always so heavy and rough?  In frustration she threw it off, letting it fall to a heap on the floor.  She paced for a while, until she heard his familiar footsteps.  The door unlatched with a click, she recognized that feeling now, it was fear.  

When he entered his study he tossed the golden crown onto the desk and eagerly unstrapped his fur lined cape from his shoulders.  “Sorry, to keep you waiting.  Anora was ill and I-”

“It’s fine”, she swallowed the knot in her throat.  She didn’t want to hear about his Queen.  It had been more than two years since they took their vows, she still couldn’t get the Queen’s sickeningly sweet smile out of her head.  The same smile she wished she could have now.  

“How I’ve missed you”, he closed the distance between them in two strides.  His hand was on her cheek, she nuzzled against his softening calluses.  There wasn’t much need for him to wield a sword anymore.  He had legions of men willing to die at a wave of his hand.  “How have you been?”

She smiled at him, “Good.”  She wasn’t going to tell him she’d been in the Deep Roads for the last few months.  She wasn’t going to tell him she was searching for a cure for them, so maybe he could come back to her.  Stop playing house with the Queen, stop pretending to be King, be together like he promised her.  “How is the kingdom?”

He sighed, “I’m tired of talking politics, Ma vhenan.  Come here”, he beckoned her to his chair where he sat.  She sat on his lap, the buckles of his royal tunic pressed into her back.  He inhaled her scent, the same thing he always did when they met under the cover of night.  His skilled fingers worked the laces on the back of her leather armor.  He tossed it, it clattered to the floor.  He slipped her brassiere over her head, her body cooperating although her mind was silently pleading.  This wasn’t what she wanted.  It was but it wasn’t all that she wanted.  She wanted him back.  Like when they lie side by side in her tent.  Her mabari curled at their feet.  His snores vibrating in her chest as she watched him sleep.  

“What’s wrong?”, he asked as he kissed her shoulder blade.  “You’re never this quiet.”

She smiled even though her back was to him, “I’m just tired”, her voice was barely audible.  Tired of hiding.  Tired of waiting weeks on end without so much as a raven from him.  Tired of feeling so alone.  

“That’s not it, Ma vhenan”, he turned her around to face him.  “What’s bothering you?”

Stop calling me that, she begged.  I don’t want to hear you say it.  She blinked the burning tears away before they fell, “Everything’s fine”, she didn’t sound convincing.  

His large hand rested on the center of her chest, “You’re lying”, he could feel her speeding pulse.  

“Just make love to me”, she moved his hand down to her exposed breast.  I can’t tell you.  It would only rip open old wounds, Emma lath.  His lips found her soft nipple.  He licked and sucked until it hardened in his mouth.  She tangled her hands in his hair, it was the longest she’d ever seen it.  It smelled like flowers, maybe the perfume from his wife’s bosom.  She jolted when he pulled the long brown braid on the side of her face.  

“Where is your head tonight, Vheylyn?”, his brows were knit together.  

“I’m sorry”, her mouth was watering.  She felt like she was going to be ill.

“Tell me”, his tone was demanding, it gave her chills.  

“I-”, she was scared to say it, “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Alistair.”  Whatever willpower she had over her tears was lost when she spoke.  

He sighed and sunk into the chair.  His hand rest on the small of her back, “I can’t give you up”, he said after a while.  

“I know that”, she felt the same way, but it was eating away at her.  It was consuming all of her.  “I don’t want to get pushed aside.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because your Queen is pregnant.”  His jaw clenched.  “When will there be time?  When you are done being King for the day?  Then you are a husband and soon, a father.  There will be no time for you to be just Alistair.  My Alistair.”  

“Stop, Vheylyn”, a muscle in his face twitched.  

“I don’t want to have my heart broken again”, she was crying harder now.  Her words came out in sobs.  

“Enough”, he mumbled and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and middle finger.  

“I would’ve prefered to kill the Archdemon myself,” she whispered.  

“Enough, Vheylyn!”, he stood up, her small body tumbling to the floor when he did.  He dragged her up by her wrists.  “You think I wanted to marry Anora?!  You think I wanted to marry my dead brother’s wife?  Her father was a traitor!  I did it to save us.  I did it to save you and now you want to leave me?”, tears threatened to escape their confines.  “It was the only thing I could think of!  Loghain kills the Archdemon, Duncan’s avenged and I know it’s not perfect but, at least I still get to hold you.”  He choked on the last words.   

She flinched at his anger.  His breath was hot against her face.  This is why she didn’t want to say anything.  She didn’t want to hurt him.  “It’s not fair.”

“I know it’s not fair”, he threw her down on the desk.  His crown and quills and inkpots hit the floor, parchments crumpled under her weight.  The wood of the desk was cold on her stomach.  Her bottom was facing him, effortlessly he removed the lace and slid the leather and cloth to her ankles.  She moaned when his hands spread her folds.  Two of his fingers entered her, her back curving toward the desk.  Her pussy got slicker with his thrusts, betraying what her mind wanted.  She tried to stand up, escape him, get away before he could draw her back in.  

He pushed her chest into the desk and added a thumb to the tight hole above the occupied one.  Her scream was thick with pleasure and resistance.  She lie limp on the desk, her arms stretched above her head, her tattooed cheek lying in a puddle of black ink.  She had missed him so much, what was the harm in one more time?  She couldn’t argue with herself as he worked her.  He knew what she liked, he knew where to touch her, how rough or gentle.  She moved against his hand, driving each of his digits deeper.  He growled in pleasure when he noticed her finally responding.  

He lifted her hips, pulling her up to the desk, her sex eye level with him.  She propped herself up on her hands, her right one sliding in the messy ink.  She shivered when she felt his tongue licking where his thumb had been.  A laugh and moan escaped her, “Not a very kingly thing to do.”  He put wet fingers back into her.  She sighed, “You are still very much a shem.”  His tongue pressed into her, she gasped.  “Mmm, a very dirty shem.”

He pulled away from her, his hand twisted brunette hair around his wrist and pulled her off the desk.  Her hair was still locked in his hand when he said, “How dare you call your king a shem.”  She could hear him unbuckling his pants with his free hand.  

“Dalish have no kings”, she said defiantly.

“Is that so?”, his breath warmed the point of her ear.  “You’re at the mercy of one now, elf.”

She felt him bend his knees and prod her with his hard cock between her swollen lips.  She sunk down on him, his erection filling her pulsing hole.  “My King”, she trailed a hand down his thigh.

He exposed her neck, nipping and licking up to her ear.  She stumbled forward when he thrust hard, her thighs scraping against the sharp edge of the desk.  Her face met his, the ink on her cheek smeared onto his, staining his beard.  She nibbled his bottom lip, tasting where his mouth had been.  She wondered if he did this with his Queen.  Did he feel like this when he put the now blossoming seed inside her?  

She pushed the thought away, the sound of his breathless moans filled her silenced mind.  One hand on her tight stomach, the other toying with her breasts, he was dragging her close to a long needed orgasm.  His warm breath on the nape of her neck made every hair on her head tingle.  She shut her eyes and immersed herself in every sensation.  He was in control, he decided how hard or fast, how deep, all she could do was let her body react.  

She remembered their first time together, in their tent at camp.  Everyone had gone to bed, they’d stayed up kissing and touching until both of them were more than ready.  He had been so nervous, scared to touch her, timid when her moans grew too loud.  An innocent Warden no longer, now he was the King of Ferelden, fucking his elven mistress while his pregnant Queen slept.  “Ma vhenan”, he groaned as his pelvis smacked against her bottom.  Why did she ever teach him that?  It only cut into her, reminding her that when he was done, when her insides were sticky with his climax, she would go back to being a shadow.  The shadow that waited for that raven, the one that scaled the outside of his tower, hoping to not be seen by his knights.  The shadow that wanted to never let go.  

The knot in her throat was returning, the burning in her eyes too.  Her nails dug into the back of the hand that was on her core.  He hissed when she broke skin, thrusting her hard against the desk.  ”Alistair!”, she hollered as his cock entered her at an angle that hit her precious spot.

“Louder, Vheylyn”, he squeezed her breast in encouragement.  “No one can hear you up here.”

She stretched across the desk, her arms sliding in ink again as she reached for the other side.  Her fingers curled around the edge, the entire desk was rocking.  A low growl came from her throat as she lost feeling in her legs, she was so close.  “Please, no”, she said quietly.  She knew if she came, he would too.

“Ma vhenan”, he growled into her back, “come for me.”

But her king was ordering it, she couldn’t disobey him now.  She stopped holding it back at his urging.  Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the desk harder.  Her hips moved on their own, her walls choked his cock, making him shudder behind her.  She screamed into the desk as the final spasms claimed her.  Her heart sank when she felt him come deep inside her.  

As they caught their breath she drifted from Ma vhenan back to the shadow.  He pulled out of her, the sudden emptiness made her somber.  She stayed still as he dressed, their pleasure dripped down her legs.  She had to will herself to dress, become the shadow again.  He sat in his oversized chair and watched her dress.  “Stay with me”, he said as she wiped the ink away with her cloak..  

She smiled as best she could, “I can’t.  Oghren and Zevran are waiting for my return.”  They were in no rush to leave the capital and they both knew that.  Oghren loved to drink, free of charge, thanks to the King and Zevran loved Ferelden women.

“I mean for good.”

“Don’t tease me, Alistair”, she scowled.  

He held his hand out to her.  “I’m not.  I mean it, you can stay in Denerim.  I’ll find you a beautiful home or have one made if you want.”

“And watch you raise your children and love your Queen?”  It was a fantasy fit for him.  She had grown tired of sharing.  “Our lives are already short, you shouldn’t have to spend what’s left of yours trying to please everyone.”  His silence meant she was right.  “It wasn’t meant to be.”

“What are you going to do?  Go back to the Dalish?”  She wanted him to fight her.  She wanted him to plead for her to stay, she knew it wouldn’t help but she wanted to know that he’d do whatever it took to keep her.

“I don’t have a home there anymore.  I am a Grey Warden after all”, she paused, “I’m going to fight darkspawn wherever they may be and keep Ferelden safe for my King.”  She faked her smile.  

“When will I see you again?”, his eyes met hers, tears clearly forming.  

“I’ll come back after your child is born”, she was lying.  She didn’t plan to return unless she found a way to stop the Calling.  If she survived and found nothing, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do.  

He stood and kissed her.  “I can’t convince you to stay can I?”

With an apologetic look, she shook her head slowly.  

He sighed and pulled her close to his chest.  “Maker watch over you, Ma vhenan”, he said into her hair.  

“Dareth shiral, Emma lath”, she sighed into his tunic.  

When she got the letter of the prince’s birth she was sitting by a fire.  A familiar courier dropped it off at Tapster’s Tavern.  A smirk crossed her face.  “What is it boss?”, Oghren asked.  

“News from Denerim, perhaps?”, Zevran assumed.  

She crumpled the parchment in one hand and chugged her ale with the other.  “It’s nothing”, she said as she tossed the letter into the flames.  It uncurled exposing the King’s lazy handwriting, It’s a boy.  His son’s name written at the bottom.  She watched the ink bubble then evaporate as the parchment turned to ash.  She was going to find a cure.  Not for herself, or for him, but so Cailan Maric Theirin didn’t have to grow up without a father.  “C’mon boys”, she said as she grabbed her bow.  “Those darkspawn aren’t going to kill themselves.”

“They might if they smelled the dwarf’s breath”, Zevran laughed.  

“Too bad darkspawn ain’t beautiful women, right Zev?  Then we wouldn’t have to kill any of ‘em.”

                

   

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